The wind carried a chill that made her shiver, but it wasn't the cold that made her tighten her shoulders. It was the memory of him, his gaze sharp and unrelenting, as if he had been searching for cracks in her armor the moment she stepped back into his world.
She walked through the familiar path, yet every step felt foreign, weighted with years she had spent rebuilding herself. Her hands brushed against the tall grass at the edge, sensing its softness, its resilience. She remembered nights when she had clutched the same blades of grass and whispered promises she couldn't keep. Promises to herself that one day, she would return stronger.
He was inside the clearing, waiting. She hadn't expected it. The Alpha who had once humiliated her now looked different. The years had carved lines into his face, but not enough to dull the intensity in his eyes. If anything, those eyes burned brighter, more desperate.
"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low, controlled, yet brittle under the surface.
She stopped a few feet away, letting the distance hum between them. "I should ask you the same," she replied. Her voice was steady, stronger than she felt inside.
He took a step forward, then paused. His instincts twisted with something he refused to name, something dangerous. The air between them felt thick, almost tangible, like electricity waiting for a spark.
"You've changed," he said finally, and it wasn't a compliment. Not really. There was accusation, frustration, and something more, something that made her pulse hitch in ways she hadn't felt in years.
"I had to," she said. "You left me with nothing but choices. I made them."
A flicker of something, regret or fear, crossed his features. She didn't wait to analyze it. She knew him too well. She knew the walls he had built around himself, how he denied everything he felt because it was dangerous, because it made him vulnerable.
"Dangerous," he muttered, almost to himself, and his gaze fell, just for a second, to her lips.
Her pulse skipped. She could feel the bond stirring, subtle yet insistent, reminding her that no matter how far she had run, some things didn't die. They simmered beneath the skin, a current she could neither ignore nor control.
"You should go," she said softly, though her body leaned unconsciously closer. The words were warning, barrier, and temptation all at once.
"I can't," he admitted, voice rough. "Not yet."
The space between them shrank by inches, though neither moved deliberately. His presence pressed against her like gravity, unrelenting and consuming. She felt it in her chest, in the low hum of awareness between them, the bond flaring, teasing, reminding them both of what they had once denied.
For a fleeting, dangerous heartbeat, she wondered if all those years of exile had only sharpened the desire between them, made it impossible to resist now.
But she would not give in, not yet. She had survived his rejection before, and she would survive this moment too.
Yet as she turned to leave, the night air carried a subtle warning. Somewhere beyond the trees, something was moving. Threat. Danger. And for the first time, she realized that returning to this place didn't just stir old desires. It invited new battles she hadn't yet imagined.
The bond pulsed, insistent, warning. And as he watched her silhouette retreat into the shadows, he knew with a certainty that terrified him. This was far from over.